


we're just getting to the good part

by ivorykeys09



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Parent-Child Relationship, season 5.5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorykeys09/pseuds/ivorykeys09
Summary: Post season 5 finale.William will be her stepson, and she will be his stepmom, so she can’t mess this up.(Or, what happens in the two weeks after they all come home.)





	we're just getting to the good part

They are actually only on the island for five days before Oliver finds them. It’s not as terrible as the worst-case scenarios her mind had conjured up, but it’s not the best five days either.  

They don’t even kiss when they are reunited. They just hug each other a little desperately, whispering things like _thank god_ and _I didn’t think you’d made it_ and _I love you I love you I love you._

There are more important things than kissing.

Their group had made it to the bunker moments _after_ the bombs had started going off, so the fact that they’d all been together (and alive) was a miracle in itself. But the explosions had caused some injuries that had made their stay more painful than comfortable, and medical attention had been needed the second their plane touched down in Star City. They all have a healthy mix of burns and gashes that need stitches; Samantha’s left hand is definitely broken, Quentin’s sporting a nasty black eye, and she’s pretty sure Thea still has a concussion. They are also all exhausted and starving, including William and Oliver who, fortunately, were spared significant injury.

The plane ride goes by quickly and after getting bandaged and fed, they—she, Oliver, Samantha, and William—head back to the loft.  

And, it’s weird how... _not_...weird it is? (Well, Curtis had made it weird when he mumbled something about sister-wives...) But even though she knows it’s temporary, she strangely understands that they need to stick together as a small group, at least for a little while longer.

Due to the holed-up-in-a-bunker situation, she and Samantha had gotten to know each other quickly and thoroughly. They’d bled together and had nightmares next to each another and took turns talking one other off the Holy Shit I’m About to Lose It Again ledge. They went _through_ it all together, just the two of them, just like Oliver and William had.

Trauma does that—it tosses out expectations and supposed feelings and just strips people down to their core.

She may not have liked how she found out about William and, in turn, Samantha; but after experiencing what they’d gone through together on Lian Yu, she feels really lucky. There is no book on how to deal with your ex-fiancé’s surprise son and his mother and what to do after you all nearly die on an island, but nevertheless...she’s just grateful she got _them._

They spend the next two weeks living together and do little else than sleep and occasionally eat the first few days.  

And though they’re all more or less comfortable with each other now, they mainly stick to their original pairs.

In the privacy of their bedroom, she and Oliver slowly come back to one another, in every way. Oliver talks and she cries and then she talks and he cries and they kiss and fuck and make love and soothe and fight and laugh and sleep and kiss some more and just...breathe. She spends a lot of the time with her head resting against his heart, letting herself feel centered by the steady beat, matching her breath to his. 

When they do leave their room, it’s a little strange to have Samantha and William there, but they get used to it pretty quickly.

The four of them rarely leave the apartment; they watch TV and play cards and give each other space and talk about easy, non-upsetting things.

Oliver is a little awkward around Samantha, since their relationship is still pretty new, but is more confident with how he is around William. They are both very quiet, but there are times when they let that fade away.

Five days after they come home, something key happens: William mentions an inside joke to Oliver, something that must have happened on the boat, because Oliver lets out an easy, full-bodied laugh. The boy follows soon after, doubled over in giggles, and the two women watch from the sidelines as something shifts between the father and son.

She hasn’t gotten there yet with William, but she hopes she will soon.

 

.

.

 

Ten days after they return, Felicity wakes up from a nap to find a note on Oliver’s pillow.

 

 _(4pm) Headed to City Hall to check in. I’ll be back soon. Love you._  

 

She glances at the clock and notices he only left fifteen minutes ago.  

Even though they are back and safe and the living nightmare they experienced is over, she can’t help but feel slightly uneasy about him being anywhere but the loft. But even though she’s rarely been alone in the past two weeks, she takes it as a good sign that she’s not panicking.  

Feeling groggy and sore, she carefully pushes herself up to sit against the headboard. Her spine is still annoying her, but her doctors insist it’s residual pain from the whiplash she’d felt from the blasts. Curtis had also done a full work up on her implant and had seen no issues, thankfully, so she just continues to wait it out. The pain is dull enough to be managed without super strong medication, so she gets out of bed, pops three Advil, scrubs her face in the bathroom, and heads downstairs.  

It’s quiet, and with the second bedroom door closed, she assumes the other two are napping too.

Make that...one person.

From the steps she can see the kitchen and dining space are empty, but at the low murmur of the TV, she looks down to see William curled up in the corner of the sofa. She’s a little relieved by his position, if she’s honest, simply because he finally looks _comfortable._ They’ve all been on edge since coming home, but no one more so than William. When he’d joined Oliver to watch a baseball game the other night, he’d sat primly on the sofa, back straight, as if he wasn’t allowed to relax. Even when Samantha had taken a seat next to him, slyly trying to get him to loosen up in that easy motherly way she knows how, he’d continued to sit perfectly stock still.

She reaches the main level and walks over to the couch area.

“Oh,” William says in surprise, feeling caught. He sits up and quickly reaches for the remote. “Sorry, I’ll turn it off—” 

“No, it’s okay,” she replies, walking to sit against the armrest on the chair across from him. She smiles. “You can keep it on.”

He still looks unsure, and finally admits, “I forgot you were here. I thought it was just me and my mom, since Oliver left. She's taking a nap, but said it was okay if I watched a movie.”

Felicity’s heart twists at how uncomfortable he sounds, and is a little overcome by how much she needs it gone. “William, you don’t have to ask to watch TV. Seriously, honey, it’s totally okay.”  

He eyes her cautiously, but looks relieved, and finally deflates against the cushions again.

Even though Samantha’s right upstairs, with Oliver gone it’s actually the first time they’ve been alone, just the two of them.

She’s been waiting for this, and quietly takes in the moment. She can’t mess any of it up, because _this_ —the future relationship she has with William, in any form that it takes—is significant.  

(Just the other night, in the haven of their bedroom, they’d decided to forgo another engagement. Once everyone is healed and things have calmed down, they’re just going to go to City Hall and get married. There are a lot of what ifs and conversations that still need to be had and countless uncertainties, but the one thing they are certain of is _them_. They are tired of waiting.) 

William will be her stepson, and she will be his stepmom, so she can’t mess this up.

The boy’s eyes stay focused on the TV and she takes the time to study him. He looks so much like Oliver it sometimes takes her breath away.  

It's also surprising how not _bothered_ she is by that fact. She’d seen the resemblance immediately—it's hard not too—but she'd have thought the constant physical reminder of their similar looks would have made the whole thing harder to get used to. It's actually had the opposite effect, in fact; she’s instead found herself these past two weeks just marveling at the sight of Oliver in a child at all.

They want kids. They had that conversation pretty early on in their relationship, even when the notion of them seemed impossible. He is so brave and so good and so thoughtful and so full of love that she can't imagine _not_ having kids with him. The idea of creating a child with Oliver, a little mix of both of them whenever that may be, feels so right and so important and so _good_. It’s still a few years away, but with William here, it makes her want it that much more.

And though she feels a pang of something she can't _quite_ articulate yet at the thought of not doing the parenting thing from square one together....she actually thinks she might like this better. The chance of easing into it, slowly making parenting fit with their crazy, complicated life, without the added pressures of an infant.  

(Sleepless nights aside, she can’t wait for the baby part though. One of her top five favorite Oliver moments was when she caught him playing peek-a-boo with his napkin in Positano, making the toddler sitting next to them break into a fit of giggles. Her heart tripled in size that day.)

He is not “dad” yet to William, but he will be soon. And then in a few years, he’ll do it all again with her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, “Are you hungry?” She's starving, so he must be too. 

“A little.” 

At his answer, she stands up quickly, and cringes when she feels a spark of pain in her back. William notices and sits up straight again.  

Concerned, he asks, “Are you okay?”

Smiling easily, she nods. “Yup. Just a little sore still.” She walks over to the kitchen. “What are you hungry for? I'm not a great cook, but I could probably figure out a good snack. Oliver will make dinner a little later.”

He mutes the TV and walks over to join her, taking a seat at the island. “Anything, really. Except nuts.” There's a pause before he explains, “I'm allergic.”

Genuinely surprised, she lets out a laugh. “So am I!”

He perks up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she's confirms, smiling.

Even though they’ve lived together for over a week, it's this shared fact that seems to break down the invisible wall between them. Before her eyes, she watches as he visibly loosens up and becomes more comfortable with her, by resting one elbow on the counter to prop up his head.

“Do you have chips and salsa?” he asks politely.

“Hmm…” Turning around, she opens up some cabinets to investigate and is relieved to see that Oliver had done a thorough shopping trip. “Affirmative.” 

As she pours the salsa and chips into two bowls, she clears her throat.

“I know it's been an overwhelming few weeks, and I'm not going to ask you how you’re feeling because I'm sure you get enough of that from your mom and Oliver.” She winks at him to keep the mood light. “But I'm also here if you ever need to talk.” She takes a deep breath and meets his eyes. “I'm...really looking forward to getting to know you better, William.”

“Me too,” he says, then adds after a beat, “And...thank you. That means a lot.”

A comfortable silence ensues, save for the occasional crunch of a chip, and she mentally twiddles her thumbs to think of what to do before an idea comes to mind. “So, your mom told me that you’re kind of a master at chess.”

He rolls his eyes, but the smirk on his face tells it all. “I'm pretty good,” he says meekly, cheeks reddening. “It was my favorite club at school.”

She walks over to one of the built-in cabinets in the hallway and noisily digs around for a few seconds. “Well, we inherited some of your grandparent’s—” She pauses, catching herself, and silently hopes it’ll go over his head. “I mean, um, Oliver’s parents’ games. They’re old and wooden, but still do the trick. Would you mind teaching me how to play?”

If he’s bothered by her slip-up, he doesn't show it, and instead just nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

It's the first time in days she’s seen him actually excited about something, and the feeling of being the person who caused it makes her skin feel warm.

She grins and brushes back her hair out of habit, flustered by the obvious change in the air. “Great! Want to bring the chips over to the couch area? We can play on the coffee table in front of the fire. It's more comfy over there, anyway.” While that is the truth, she honestly just needs the cushions for her back, so she sets up a pillowed area between the table and couch, and makes herself comfortable on the floor.

For the next half-hour they sit together and play, talking about nothing but chess moves and strategy. There’s plenty of time to get to know one another, so she just listens intently and asks him too many questions. He really is very good; she knows next to nothing about chess, but is impressed by the way he explains the game, especially for his age.

They’re so focused they don’t even hear the keys in the lock, but at the quiet close of the door, they both look over to find Oliver standing still in the entry.

He takes in the scene before him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Felicity says, smiling.

William just waves.

She watches Oliver look around the room and answers his silent question. “Samantha’s taking a nap, so we’re just hanging out.”

William shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m teaching Felicity how to play chess since she didn’t know how,” he says, turning back to the game.

Felicity’s eyes remain on Oliver, though. A thousand different emotions fly across his face, and she can tell he’s trying to play it _super_ cool, trying not to get ahead of anything or speed up any emotional timeline or relationship.

But he’s affected by this—by the sight of the woman he loves and his son sharing something, even as little as a game of chess—and is overwhelmed by the fact that it’s not a fleeting moment.

This is the new normal. Samantha and William won’t always live there together with them, but William will be back. He can let himself stand there and memorialize it—as the moment _it_ all started—but he won’t let himself stand there and _memorize_ it. Because Felicity and William, and Oliver and William, and Oliver and Felicity, and Oliver and William and Felicity...it’s not going to go away tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Or the next day.

Or the next day. 

They’ll all still be here, as a new little family.

So he hangs up his jacket, kisses her hello, ruffles his son’s hair, and joins them.

.

.

end

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to hear what you think! I always appreciate comments. Thanks for reading.


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